because the vowel is wasted, that's why

Critters are invading. Well, one critter.

We have had a resident possum (yes, I know it is supposed to be spelled with an "o" in the front, but I refuse on the principle that it is an utter waste of a vowel) that has become a bit of a seasonal squatter in our attic and backyard. We are not sure how he is getting around. When we hear him in the attic during the winter months, we play detective. We have tried to figure out his traffic pattern and access entry point. We have plugged all potential areas of access into the attic, roof, and eaves that we could find. Somehow, despite our efforts, this little creature continues to figure out how to get in an out at will. Apparently there is an indoor and outdoor possum network we were formerly blissfully unaware of.

With a small steel-cage trap thingy borrowed from my father-in-law, who tells us it has been used successfully on everything from rats to raccoons (this is the part where my mind goes into voluntary denial), Copper has hoped to catch the possum and relocate him to a more generally welcoming location. This endeavor has proven unfruitful, literally. Each morning, the pieces of peanut butter laden fruit in the trap have been relocated. The possum is still located here.

This little critter has awakened me at 2:30 a.m. three nights of the last two weeks. Whereupon, I awaken Copper and together, armed with flashlights and clad in pajamas and socks, we descend upon the backyard garden. Where we inevitably find the possum (as they are not the stealthiest creatures), shine lights on it and try to direct it into the trap. We reason, in our VERY lucid 2:30 a.m. mental capacities, that we can somehow "land" this possum in its cage with our lights like it is a 747. Typically, our efforts manage little more than to frighten the little thing, who tries to escape by retreating to the farthest reaches of our agapanthas, then tries to climb the locust tree before just giving up, playing possum, and hoping we go away.

Which we do. It's 2:30 a.m. It's cold outside. It is flashlights and socks vs. marsupial with rumored sharp teeth. We go away.

The possum has us pretty much figured out. We eat a lot of corn on the cob and salmon, and the garbage gets picked up on Wednesday morning. Which means that Tuesday nights are possum-on-the-prowl nights. With Copper out of town until Friday, I expected the possum to visit again last night and was prepared to meet him alone. I waited up till after three in the morning. I set the trash out as usual. I put fresh batteries on our flashlight, set my shoes by the door, and slathered peanut butter on the apples in the trap. I kept going to the door and flicking on the outdoor lights really fast, hoping to catch Mr. Critter in the noisy act of trying to claw into our spa. Hoping to scare him into the trap by sheer terror of the light from a 60 watt outdoor bulb. Hoping I had not stayed up in vain. Hoping for another possum sighting. Hoping the trap would actually be effective. Hoping I'd get to do my little victory dance.

Alas, our friendly neighborhood possum let me down. And I am both tired and disappointed. I am not sure which is worse: being wakened by a possum in the middle of the night, or NOT being visited by a possum after waiting up until the middle of the night.

I told Copper tonight that instead of peanut butter, we may as well lay out a towel, some sunscreen, and more corn on the cob. Because all this little thing seems to want to do is slip into the spa, have a snack, and move right in.

Varmint.

damp hair-mussed foreheads

I cherish that my children sleep so warmly that when they wake suddenly in the middle of the night and call for me, I get to rock my snuggly, limp, damp-hair-mussed-foreheaded babies to sleep all over again. May time stand still for these moments.

Challenge: Bring It On!

These three bumper stickers comprise my all time favorites.

Ironically, despite my happy appreciation for communication-a-la-car (well, MOST of the time, because there are some odd Mulligans out there), I don't have a single bumper sticker on my own autmobile, because, as my car is often used for work - bumper stickers are against company policy. If I could, though, I'd plaster each of these on my own little driving machine. Until I retire, I'll have to settle for displaying them on the cover of my Study Bible instead. Once in awhile, I ponder if it isn't, perhaps, somewhat sacreligious, but considering I have written all over my Study Bible over the last 16 years, I think it'll fly.

So for July, I am issuing a BLOGWIDE CHALLENGE. Please join me in rising to the challenge of finding inspired ways to:

CELEBRATE AND PROTECT LIFE

PRACTICE RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS AND SENSELESS ACTS OF BEAUTY

and FOSTER PEACEFUL COEXISTENCE WITH ONE ANOTHER.

Throughout July, I will be publishing a weekly check-in post to openly invite posts from the entire blogosphere (well, those who visit my little neck of the woods!), detailing collective and individual efforts at living these concepts out loud. I plan to celebrate each effort and hopefully be blessed, inspired, and propelled to pay it forward. Let us make a difference and be inspired by these basic bumper stickered concepts of caring for one another. So let's go forth and make a difference in the lives of others for nothing but the sheer joy of the exercise. First check in post: July 4, 2006.

Bring it on!

pepper of the non salt kind

Dr. Pepper should be a controlled substance.

...but I am glad it isn't.

Adding to the "Shouldn't's"...

...More items to add to my ongoing list of Things That Just "SHOULDN'T BE".

1.) The US Post Office should not be able to legally charge $12.40 for Priority Mail service, which boasts expedited delivery within 3 business days, only to NOT deliver said package until the eighth business day, and then refuse a refund because they do not "guarantee" their Priority Mail delivery times. I see. So what exactly did I pay the $12.40 for? Ransom? Legalized bribery? Or a gratuity, rewarding the mere possibility that the package MAY arrive as promised?

2.) Credit card companies should not be able to unilaterally alter the original terms of our consumer credit card agreements at will without a compelling reason, such as the default of the borrower. When we enter into a contractual agreement to borrow and repay money that affects OUR credit ratings, it is a seriously sober matter. When we keep our commitment in good faith, the other party to the contract should not be able to alter terms of our agreement at will in order to create more favorable terms for their sole benefit.

3.) The focus on weddings shouldn't emphasize the bride, the dress, the food, the tiara, the photos, the colors and china, the dinner menu, the ring ~ any of that peripheral distractory. Planners should not be employed to plan a wedding, but a marriage. The focus should not be upon the planning, process, perfunctions, primping, and party that happens the day the bride and groom say "I do"... but rather, the lifetime that comes after.

4.) War should not exist. But as war does exist, ALL human beings who share this planet should be avidly circumspect in voicing their opinions about its existence, plan, execution, and duration while other human beings are dying ~ either for a cause they believe in, or as casualties of a conflict they are entirely innocent of. After all, it is unchecked and increasingly polarized differences of opinions and ideologies that foster the inability to coexist peaceably, and inevitably form the root cause of war in the first place.

5.) American cities, counties, and governments shouldn't be so arrogant as to expect to pay their police officers wages that are easily eclipsed by most employees of Taco Bell, offer limited or no benefits, require 14-hour days or longer ~ and then wring their hands in puzzled confusion as to why they cannot attract quality recruits for their dwindling police force. I'm sorry, guys, but any job that requires its' employee to don 30 pounds of body armor, a bulletproof vest and kevlar, pepper spray, riot batons and shields, and over a dozen guns on their person or cars should not be something we expect to fill at a discounted compensation rate. This vastly arrogant disrespect for people who stand in the gap - literally - with their lives everyday explains why we are suffering from a stark shortage of police officers nationwide. Including Copper's local department in a city where over 20% of the police officer positions remain indefinitely, chronically vacant.

6.) Perfection should not be expected or claimed by anyone. After Jesus, we are all just pale reflections of the possibility.

walmart woes

I am honestly humbled by the open employment policy that Walmart offers, but experiencing the business end of that policy is not without its drawbacks. It would potentially be helpful to ensure that those employed in positions of customer service do not render that service with the overt malice of a hitman seeking to cause bodily injury to any brave soul daring to ask where the Children's sinus medicine might be located.

After Sunday nights' run in with the Walmart Mob Boss in Aisle Nine, I am now legitimately afraid of that place. Not because of how it is rumored to treat its employees, but how its employees treat their customers. And how many colorful epithets are tatooed on their forearms. A heathy portion of the Walmart workforce seems to be employed courtesy of work release. Which is fine. Until you need to ask a question.

Liar, liar, pants on fire

"Mommy, are you awake?"

This question was posed by the completely alert and intently-staring-at-me-from-under-my-covers-where-she-snuggled-late-last-night five-year old daughter.

At approximately 5:12 a.m. On a Sunday morning. It was pitch dark and obscenely early. And considering that a congested and coughing Dash had kept me up until after 1:00 a.m, no way was I getting up a this hour for anything less than a fire or a medical emergency. And even those were becoming negotiable.

"No. Definitely not."

My eyes closed. I sank immediately back into beckoning slumber. For about 28 seconds.

"Mommy, are you sure you're not awake?" I was silently willing her sweet, pleading voice to not penetrate my sleep cocoon. My eyelids were lined with anvils and didn't even attempt to open as I issued my repeated answer in my barely audible, groggy whisper, "LaLa, I am sure. Go back to sleep, honey."

And we again descended back into silence. Well, one of us did.

"Mommy, you're talking. People who are asleep don't talk. How can you talk if you're asleep?"

"That's a good question. Let's sleep on that one, OK?"

That bought me twenty minutes.

At 5:30, she had decided that no amount of rumination could convince her that people who are asleep can talk. She leaned over and started stroking my hair and then my face, trying to rouse me. Her sweet gesture ordinarily would have been rewarded with a hug or kiss from me - but anything that threatened intrusion on the already endangered species of my SLEEP was regrettably unwelcome, no matter how adorabale.

Abandoning this effort, she leaned close. "Mommy, I know you are awake because you're talking to me. You LIED, Mommy. You said you were not awake and you ARE awake."

She sat upright in my bed with her tiny little arms crossed. Albeit with a hesitancy I can not adequately describe, I was unavoidably awake now. I rolled over and faced her. She was formidable. "You LIED, Mommy. You know the difference between the truth and a lie."

And as she shook her head in sober consternation, she delivered the one that finally motivated me to drag myself out of bed and make breakfast for this future litigator, "I am so disappointed in you, Mommy. We need to pray."

Which brings me to the reason I was kneeling beside my bed with my 5-year old daughter at half past five, praying for forgiveness for misleading my poor daughter in my ill-fated attempt to cling to the last vestiges of sleep. And wondering how this situation had gotten so ridiculous. While newly appreciating the scarily effective skill of overt manipulation possesed by my daughter. Especially in the wee hours of the morning when my mind has not yet punched its timecard for the day.

Tonight, Copper and I are debating the merits of installing a lock on our bedroom door.

likened

The marriage of my Chistian faith and my anti-illegal immigration stance is best equated to the fact that my house has both a welcome mat and a security system.

the first decision in our homeschool quest

The Principal of our neighborhood elementary school returned my call last evening. Knowing the sheer pace and end-of-the-year frackas that befalls all teaching institutions this time of year, I did not expect a returned call this month, much less within 24 hours of my message. I was elated, but suddenly I was heart-in-the-throat not ready to have this conversation. But I did anyway. You see, a bit over a year ago, Copper and I sat down to a pow wow. We prayed, talked in depth about our mutual and individual educational and spiritual goals, fears, and hopes for LaLa, and committed to leave ourselves open to God's direction when it comes to the schooling of our children. We have been in active pursuit of discovering exactly what that plan might be ever since.

We've chosen to enroll LaLa in our church and the neighborhood public school kindergarten simultaneously while we educate ourselves on homeschooling options, simply so that we might be poised make our final choice only after we felt completely confident and at peace with it. Basically, we've left our options open and have been praying like fiends. Over the last few months, we have come to conclude that 32.5 hours a week of kindergarten in ANY school is more than a little ridiculous and contraindicated for our child (and for me, the more outspoken of our union, generally - the phrase I actually used was a bit stronger. I believe, "...ridiculous for ANY 5-year old human being. I had part time jobs in college with less hours!" was uttered). We chose to confront the public school option by asking the Principal if the school could accommodate our desire to send our child to kindergarten 3 days a week, rather than 5. Or, if five days was set in stone - we do not want her in school for more than four hours per day. These were the conditions under which we were willing to consider sending our child to public school. And even if then, we have ample critical reservations about public school.

Our thoughts behind contacting the Principal this week were simply that if he did not support this general plan of ours or the school had limited flexibility to accommodate our needs, that would be our best indication against pursuing a public school education for our child.

God bless this man, he spoke openly and answered honestly. He counseled me that, given the advanced state of LaLa's education at this point (she tested at second grade, 7th month level in reading and 3rd grade, 2nd month level in math at the kindergarten entrance testing last month, for whatever those results are worth), and the fact that we are concerned about so many defining aspects of a public education, and that our child is almost painfully sensitive and struggles with being able to function well in overstimulated situations, homeschooling for kindergarten is our best option in his estimation. And his next statement I will long remember and am particularly grateful to have been told, "I have been a public educator for over 27 years and I have learned that there is no right way to educate all children. If I were the parent to the child you just described, I would not hesitate for a moment to homeschool her in kindergarten. If you decide to integrate her in first grade, we will work with you on creating an I.E.P. program where she has a reduced day, and is mostly home-study based." WOW! I didn't know such a thing existed, but it was such a great feeling to be supported by another (you guys included) objective, educated, knowledgeable person.

He reminded me several times that he was speaking off the record (I did not know there was a record. Should I be keeping a record? I guess I need to start keeping a record...), but that "avid advanced learning" is not what kindergarten is about in a public school setting. Basic letter/color/art/word recognition skills, socialization, and learning to follow directions and conquer self control seemed to be the themes. All of which are worthy goals. All of which we long surpassed in this house. Even our 2-year old knows his colors, can count to ten, recite his A-B-C's, does age-appropriate art, and plays well with his peers. My sentiment that 32.5 hours in a kindergarten class (public or private) would be a waste for LaLa fairly well solidified and hit the bottom of my stomach with a defining "clunk".

While the apparently advanced state of my kids' educational status at the moment is not the sole determinant on how we choose to pursue their education, my conversation with this lovely, humble, honest, funny man was SO helpful in realizing that my instincts, my heart, my prayers have led me on the right path all along.

We are not going to send our daughter to public school kindergarten.

A DECISION AT LAST!

So, that leaves either private school, which we have previously discounted entirely because it involves a more expensive, uniformed version of the same struggles we wrestle with in considering public school.

Or, homeschooling.

I have called on four friends today who are currently homeschooling, seeking information and thoughts. At their counsel, I have ordered two books online, borrowed several others, and am awaiting a compilation of all kinds of good stuff to be delivered from the homeschooling archives of one of my closest friends. I am researching curriculum. I spent over 2 hours today on starfall.com and other favorite sites with LaLa and building the base of a project she is engineering with wood outside (meant to be a base for an owl roost - we'll see what morphs since our area is notably bereft of owls). I pretended we had already chosen to homeschool and I was flooded with a sense of PEACE and JOY and RELIEF. I felt calm. I felt right.

I have a feeling this decision is already made and just waiting for our mouths to utter what our minds and hearts already know.

I am so grateful for the prayers of those who love me and those here on this board who I have never met but am blessed by already. I can't believe the quickness and completeness of the answers God will send when we ASK HIM WITH A PURE HEART. For the first time in fourteen months of wrestling with this topic, I am going to sleep with a sense of abiding hope.

Prop 82 Plunges

That Prop 82 went down in flames in today's California election is giving a nice little jaunty uplift to my step. Thank goodness we rejected this sugar coated plan for wealth redistribution, discriminatory taxation, and more crummy government~run educational programs for our kids. Ah, "Universal Preschool" Bankrolled by the Wealthy. What a grand idea! Since the state of California does such a superb job of educating our children in grades K-12, why not instill MORE of the same substandard programs and succesful endeavors? Only let's also involuntarily force those Californians who make more money than most of us to pay for the preschool education of other people's children!

If this bill passed, I would be temped to propose a ballot measure in the not-so-distant future, requiring those evil wealthy people to be taxed for the "Universal Subsidize-Lachen-Maui Fund". Sheesh. Who ARE the people who conceive these communistic, fruitless, discriminiatory, band-aid ideas? Oh wait, nevermind - Rob Reiner. Well, there you go.

Gee, here's a thought: why not REDUCE taxes on the lot of us so that we can afford to send our children to the privately run preschool of our choice on our OWN dime, should we so desire?

If our earnings were not taxed to the obscene extreme in this state ~ used to fund an intolerable number of government "programs" which pose no benefit to our children ~ we'd retain enough of our own money to be able to pay for our own childrens' education! After all, it is OUR responsibility to educate our children, not Rob Reiners', our governments', or my friends the business owners ~ who work their tails off for every penny they earn but whose pennies happen to add up to a heckuva lot more than mine and meet the criteria for this proposed bill. We must continue to pry the tentacles of government run programs from our lives, before they strangle us. And then send the bill for our funerals to the wealthy.

Common sense is an endangered species these days. But thankfully enough of us who cling to its frayed edges showed up at the polls in California today to send this putrid proposition packing.

Dysfunction Junction

Attending high school at the intersection of gang violence and moral~bankruptcy~disguised~as~progressive~ arts taught me to be wary toward any public education system, with particular emphasis on my own home state.

The size of my high school graduating class quite nearly eclipses the population of the current town we live in. During my tenure, there were two drive-by shootings, a random dead body found on the football field on campus, more injuries caused by gang fights than any sporting or other endeavor, and you had better have your backpack bungee corded around you or risk it being yanked from your shoulders as you walked through the halls. Being the inner city bastion of excellence that it was (yes, that was sarcasm), the prevailing plan for turning this school around was to integrate it with a bunch of G.A.T.E. students from Arts Intensives all over town. Which they did, two years prior to my arrival on campus as an appropriately bewildered but undaunted fourteen year old.

So, inner city gang infested jungle, meet ballerinas, opera singers, playwrights, and painters. It was dysfunction junction from the start. Certainly an odd marriage and destined for clashes. Which there were, in spades. My education was achieved at the expense of my innocence, my purpose, my hope. The end result was systematic, educationally mediocre waste of brilliant potential.

I was blessed with a bevvy of fascinating friends, challenging and rewarding relationships and experiences, and did learn a thing or two between ages 14 and 18. But given the environment, those were consolation prizes. I wonder often what I woulc have been ~ could have been ~ if the cultivation was more than it was. If I were encouraged to be ~ taught to be ~ allowed to be ~ more than I am.

Jumping ahead in our story...

My first born child, LaLa, turned five last month. By ye olde USA standards these days, this means that kindergarten is on tap, come autumn. This also means that I have spent the last 12 months visiting every school within 15 miles of our home, and researching private, charter, and homeschooling options. Essentially, I have been looking for a solution to scholastic mediocracy while seeking an ointment to heal my heart. I am not ready. This is, I'm sure, not an unusual pronouncement from any first-time Mommy whose child is about to enter kindergarten. Are any of us are truly ready for the incremental movements of our children towards independence and thus, away from our protective embrace? But marry this apprehension with a phenomenally lackluster personal experience with public education, fear of the unknown and potential social bereftness of home schooling, and inability to pony up the cash to finance a private education... and you begin to see the corner I am feeling painted into.

It is a lonely and miserable corner, to be sure. Right around the bend from Dysfunction Junction, as a matter of fact. I am scared to make a mistake that sacrifices BEST for GOOD ENOUGH. I am scared for my child. I am scared of being scared.

When did we collectively decide that five year old children are best taught away from their homes 6-7 hours per day, five days per week, in the company of 20 other five-year olds and only one adult present to teach them? Who came up with that plan? And, when did we decide that educating our children is best achieved in a non-organic classroom setting, as opposed to natural settings? When did we decide that it is best to banish individual morals and ethics from a classroom, and replace with the apparently more palatable sandblasted version, which appeases yet confuses? When did we make it par for the course to teach children in classes by age, so that they are learning the same lessons with the same methods at the same pace based on the fact that they were all born about the same time? When did we decide that what we need is MORE time in the classrooms (more school programs, mandatory preschool ~ a lovely little initiative on the ballot we Californians are voting for this week), instead of more time spent learning about the world around us by actually immersing our children in the world around us under our watchful, caring instruction?

Nearly every parent I have spoken to expresses similar reservations about the public (and even private) school options here. It is not ideal. It is OK. But it is not excellent. In fact, it is detrimental in some major components and takes FAR too much time to achieve FAR too little actual education. And that's to say nothing of the conflict with morality, family values, faith, or religion experienced by some students while trying to merge what they learn in school with what they learn at home or ar church.

Nearly every parent has reservations about the garden variety public school system here. So why do we just keep sending our kids? Yes, we fret, we ruminate, we ponder, we hesitate, we anguish. But we keep sending our kids.

I realize that some parents don't. The unyeilding minority of us. Those who've chosen to approach their childrens' education differently. They homeschool, unschool, private school, charter school... as I am learning, there are ample satisfying options out there. But they involve a leap of faith. Not because these alternative educational structures don't make sense, don't hit higher on the mark towards educational excellence, don't give more freedom in curricula and hands-on learning to the individual student, and achieve greater results in less time. But because they are different, unusual, untried (by me), overtly unpopular, not the norm, or a number of other reasons. But not because they are inherently better at fostering teaching and facilitating learning than traditional public school.

I am in awe of the parents who come to similar conclusions about the public education system as I have drawn and who have actually had the courage to DO SOMETHING about it. May I have the courage and the committment to be among you, whatever my convictions may lead us to eventually choose for our little girl. May I not follow the madding crowd for whatever get-off-the-hook weasel reasoning I coerce myself into believing, or be caught up in the periphery and the peer pressure around me. May I do what is right for my children, no matter what fears I face that threaten my resolve. No matter what, period.

May I rebel against dysfunction junction and instead pursue the avenue of excellence for my beloved LaLa. And for my little man, Dash, as he is coming up not far behind her. May I teach my children by example and always pursue what is best vs. what is traditionally accepted.

Please pray for us.